Passé Composé
by Acute Delirium
Summary: Honestly, Isaac would rather talk to Ms. Morrell about his French test than Mom and Camden being dead.


**Warnings: **Mentions of suicide and implied child abuse.

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**Passé Composé**

"Come in, Isaac," Ms. Morrell called to him. Isaac closed the door behind him. It'd taken a while to figure out that her office wasn't with the other language teachers, so he was had already screwed up.

Isaac sat down in across from Ms. Morrell. His French test was in his backpack, but he didn't take it out, just pulled the backpack onto his lap. Maybe if she didn't see it, Ms. Morrell would forget about the problems he missed and just ask him to leave. People forgot things really easily.

"How are you, Isaac?" Ms. Morrell asked. Her hands were clasped together, and Isaac noticed how tiny she looked behind her desk. It was a big desk, plenty of space between them. Her fingernails were polished, with probably that clear stuff Mom used to buy whenever she took him to pick up her pills. She painted his fingers with it once, and he knew it was pretty gay, but he liked how nice they looked.

It took two days for Dad to notice. When he did, Camden stood between them. Shouted about how nails are just keratin deposits and Isaac could do whatever he wanted with them. Then he got knocked out so it wasn't that much help. But it was more than Mom did.

"Isaac?"

He looked back at her face, and she was staring. Waiting for him to answer.

"Fine." He forgot to pack a lunch, his shoulder still hurt from last night and Isaacs teachers kept keeping him after class to talk. Everyone stared at him. Things were shit. "Things are good."

Ms. Morrell blinked a little, and closed whatever file was on her desk. "Things are good?" Isaac nodded. "What's good, Isaac?" she asked.

Isaacs clenched his backpack. "I think I'm doing…I think I'm doing pretty well on past tense." Ms. Morrell raised her eyebrows. Isaac looked down on his backpack and dug his nails into the fabric. "I mean _passé compose_. Sorry." Before he could stop himself, Isaac kept talking and making it worse. "I know I got the culture questions wrong. We don't have a computer, and I couldn't watch the video. I'll…next time I'll come to the library."

Ms. Morrell's eyebrows lowered, and she looked sad. "No, Isaac. You are doing very well in French. I'm not worried about your progress at all."

"Ok." Leaves had piled up outside the window. They were getting pulpy, like a brown carcass. Isaac wondered how long it took for leaves to disintegrate. Camden would know.

"You are aware that I'm the school's guidance counselor, right?"

Isaac looked out at the administrative office and back at Ms. Morrell. He could feel his face going red, but _fuck. _No, he didn't know. But he'd been in high school for more than a month now, and there was probably a sign on the freaking door. He should have known.

"Yeah, I know."

"And I just thought we should check in, considering." The _your mother just hung herself and your brothers dog tags haven't even arrived yet_ was left implied. He held tighter to his backpack until his palms stung, and Isaac wished he had claws so he could tear open his backpack and shred his homework. Throw it at Ms. Morrell because what was the fucking _point _of going to school if everyone was just going to try and make him talk.

"I'm fine."

That stood between them for a while, like Ms. Morrell was waiting for him to start crying about how he wasn't fine and would she please save him? But instead she nodded. "You're fine a lot, aren't you?"

This was a trick. She was using the dinner table voice, baiting him to screw up. She was probably going to have him shipped off to a psych ward if he answered wrong. Isaac didn't say anything. After a minute, Ms. Morrell kept going.

"If I were you, I'd sure try to be fine. But saying you're fine isn't the same thing as actually being fine." Isaac stared at his fingers, still holding the red fabric of his backpack. He wasn't going to let her find anything in his face.

"Isaac, you've suffered two tragic deaths in a very short amount of time and—"

"No I haven't,"

Stupid. Isaac bit the inside of his cheek and looked out the window. He knew he was acting like a child, but she should get that idea that Isaac just wanted to be left alone. Why the fuck didn't people ever leave him alone?

"You haven't?"

Isaac looked straight at Ms. Morrell. This was none of her business. "Camden's death was tragic. Hers wasn't."

"Isaac, your mother—"

The backpack fell of his lap as Isaac stood up. His nails were stinging worse than usual, and maybe they'd feel better if he destroyed Ms. Morrell's office until it was just ashes. "My mom was a pill popping bitch. She left me."

Ms. Morrell stared at him and Isaac wished she'd do something. Yell at him, or kick him out. But she just kept looking at him, like there was something she wanted.

Isaac flinched when the bell rang. Movement started in the halls and soon someone would see that Shaky Lahey was in the counselors office, and they'd never shut up about it. Isaac picked up his backpack and hurried to the door. He was almost out when panic gripped him.

He turned around. Ms. Morrell was still looking at him. She wasn't mad. "Please don't tell my dad," Isaac said. "Please don't tell."

Ms. Morrell stood up and started walking towards Isaac. "I'm not going to tell anyone anything."

Isaac left before she got any closer.

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**AN: **At the time this was written, 2x08 is the latest episode and nothing has been said about Isaac's mother, so I went off a temporary head canon. Please review!


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